


Only a Malfoy

by Ramblingnic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Draco is 17, Dubious Consent, Incest, Multi, Vaginal Sex, mentions of Draco at 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramblingnic/pseuds/Ramblingnic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius has always taught his son that only a Malfoy is good enough for a Malfoy.   Narcissa doesn't quite agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only a Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Transferred from my LJ. Originally written in 2007 for the Pimp My Threesome Fest.

Her travesty of a trip to Paris complete, Narcissa was overjoyed to be home. Her new gowns had been fitted and she had made her required appearance at all of the trendy cafés. With the winter overstaying its welcome, the fashionable gardens had been closed; the real cream of Paris holing themselves away in their overly decorated parlors, waiting for the first warm days. So, with Society still in hibernation, she returned to the Manor.

The house was quiet, as the wards slipped open to let her through the door. Not an unusual state. Lucius’ temper kept the house-elves in a constant state of uneasy silence, and Draco was more likely to be found reading in the library or working on a Dark spell, than running about the estate. As much as Lucius criticized him, Draco was every bit his father’s child. The Malfoy Heir, through and through. Still, even with the silence, Narcissa found it odd that not a soul seemed to be home. She walked the first floor, taking note of the open door to Lucius’ study, papers littering the desk, not his usual orderly way of stacking them. The living and dining room were equally as barren, increasing her worry. 

“Please, no.” The last whispered trails of a plea caught her ear, as she climbed the staircase. In all of her years as his wife, Narcissa had never interrupted Lucius in the middle of his ‘work.’ A soundproofed dungeon in the sub-basement had seen to that. She quickly took the remainder of the stairs, unsure if she wanted to see what was going on under her roof. 

Going on in Draco’s bedroom, she noted silently, as she realized just where the sound was emanating from. 

“Please, please, oh God.” Louder now, right behind the door, and close enough that she finally heard the light timbre to the voice. Draco! Someone was harming Draco! The small amount of motherly instinct contained in her body propelled Narcissa through the door at record speed, her wand drawn out at her side.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” she swore loudly; a bad habit she had picked up from a Muggle girl at school, and she would have bet ten Galleons she was rid of.

“Cissa, dear, we didn’t expect you home so early.” His statement revealed nothing, nor did his tone or expression. For all his face showed, he could have been instructing their son on Seeker technique. “But really, I’m not sure we should be exposing our son to such vulgarities.”

“Hello Mother,” Draco smiled, playing the tips of his fingers over his own naked skin. She immediately ripped her eyes away, staring instead at her husband, who lay on the opposite side of the bed, a languorous smile on his face. 

“Vulgarities!” she spat loudly. “Vulgarities…? And what exactly is it you call… THIS?!” Had it been anyone but Lucius she might have believed a more innocent tale; a backrub, or a wounded arm perhaps, but she had seen that hungry look in his eyes when he stared at their only child. A hunger that had never been there when he looked at her. “You sick bastard. He’s your son. This is rape.”

“Now, now dear, I don’t think we need to resort to harshness. He’s fine. Take a look at him,” Lucius eyes trailed over Draco’s flushed body, a knowing smile curling his lips. “I should hardly think it looks like he’s being forced.” It only took the briefest glance for her worst fears to be confirmed. Draco lay splayed out on the bed, his hair mussed and his eyes glazed over with lust. Lust... and… “You’ve drugged him!”

“Just some elfwine, Mother,” Draco laughed, draping his arm against his forehead, like some debauched virgin in a biblical scene. “It tastes nice.”

“Yes, just some wine, my dear,” Lucius echoed. “He likes it. Don’t you my boy?” Draco sighed contently at his father’s attentions, simply nodding in agreement. “You see Narcissa, the alcohol is fine. I didn’t require its use when he crawled into my bed at the tender age of fifteen, and I surely don’t require it now.”

Narcissa let out a very unMalfoy-like screech, as she flung herself at her husband, aiming for the steel cold, but familiar grey eyes. “You, you… Motherfucker!” she screamed, surprised at herself for even knowing such a word. Apparently the attack did not catch Lucius off guard, as he grabbed her quickly by the wrists. The language he just seemed to find amusing, and he turned to Draco with a smile. 

“No, I don’t believe that’s ever happened. Draco?”

“No Father,” the boy answered, propping himself up for a better view. “I can’t say I’ve ever done anything with her.” His attitude was at best cavalier, and at worst, entertained, either of which turned Narcissa’s stomach.

“You think you are so above everyone else,” she screamed, struggling against Lucius, frustrated by the lack of brocade or silk; anything to grab on to. “But I know what you are.” She suddenly stilled, meeting him eye to eye, with a fierceness that would have frightened most other men. “I see past your Galleons, the fancy robes, and your precious serpent cane,” she sneered. “I know the truth. You are sick. A monster. A monster who would rather fuck his own son than satisfy his wife.” Her eyes screwed shut, as she found herself face first against the wall, Lucius’ knee forcing her legs apart. He twisted a hand roughly through her hair, pulling her head back to his shoulder. 

“Unsatisfied are you, my dear?” he growled, his breath smelling of whisky and cinnamon, hot against her neck. “How strange, that you never mentioned it before. We really should remedy that.” With one sharp pull, the buttons down the back of her dress gave way, falling onto the wooden floor and scattering across the room. The strapless, yellow chiffon pooled softly at her feet, leaving Narcissa nearly bare, her hardening nipples rubbing against the plaster of the wall.

Her struggle renewed as he tore the side of her lace underpants, his fingers probing between her moist lips, spreading her open. He offered little in the way of preparation, and for that she was glad. Lucius was talented, and despite her detestation of his force, and their audience, Narcissa knew that she would break for him far too easily.

“Please Lucius,” she begged coldly, glancing over to the bed where Draco lay, watching with a look of keen interest. “Not here, please. Not in front of him.”

“And why not?” Lucius questioned, his voice dripping with cruel amusement at his wife’s obvious fear. “He is the fruit of our loins, the product of our lust. Why shouldn’t he see what a simple whore his mother can be?” Feeling the thickness of two fingers thrust up inside her, Narcissa caught her lip between her teeth, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing her gasp. When had his fingers ever been so long, or her pussy so tight? She could feel the bone of his knuckle pressing against her with each stroke. She twisted against him again, leaving them both wondering whether her attempt was to escape, or to impale herself further.

“You see how sweet she can be, Draco,” Lucius purred, speaking aloud purely for her benefit. “She knows she needs it. I know she needs it. It’s just a matter of control.”

“Bastard!” she hissed, using the momentary distraction to thrust back onto the digits inside her.

“Again, spreading lies,” Lucius said, laughing. “You know very well that my parents were married, dear. You met them both.” Crooking his fingers slightly, he pulled them from her body, pressing tighter against her wrists with the other hand. “Let’s see now,” he laughed, slicking his fingers along the small of her back in a swirling monogram. “LM, that should do it. It may not be visible, but I’m sure the hounds will smell it on you.” Narcissa’s heart tore at the sound of Draco’s laughter, filling the bedroom air, like little silver bells. Laughing at her pain, her mortification at Lucius’ hand. 

“I won’t stand for this, Lucius!” she screamed, trying to pull her wrists free. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he replied calmly, pulling her downward and over the edge of the bed. Her hands moved to the bedcovers, gripping them tightly as she was pinned by his weight. “I find this position much more comfortable than standing.” His knee forced her legs apart, prying her open until she was fully exposed to him. She had no time to formulate a plan, as he pressed the head of his cock against her opening, sliding upward to hit her clit, teasing her with every stroke, but not entering her.

“Please Lucius,” she begged, pressing back into him. Shutting her eyes tightly, she could no longer see the Slytherin green of Draco’s bedsheets or the curiously aroused look on her son’s face. She could pretend herself into another time and another place, one where she could allow herself this pleasure, with no guilt. “Please...” She could almost hear the smirk on his face, as Lucius thrust into her, filling her completely. Merlin, it had been so long since she had felt anything like this, somehow allowing the shame to melt into lust, letting it drip over her skin. This was no longer the mechanical trade of her body for power. This was far different. This was what she had always imagined, on those nights when her bed was empty, and her hand brushed between her thighs. Her hips pressed deeper into the mattress, as Lucius took her hard, moving his hand from her wrists, to twist through her hair.

“Please Father,” she heard the soft whimper of Draco’s voice, pulling her mind back to the reality at hand. “Please, it isn’t fair. I already have to share you with her. Please Mother, please be kind, just this once. He won’t have me once he’s through with you.” Narcissa looked up, trying to focus on Draco’s clear gray eyes, rather than the fingers that swept over his hardened erection. He truly was a man now, a fact she had overlooked in the last year, and the leaking cock that filled his grasp was more than enough proof. The Draco before her was far different than the one currently residing in her memory. The bright light of a nearby lamp filtered though the strands of his mussed hair, giving him the appearance of something ethereal, unreal, and most definitely not the son she knew. Pulling her hand loose from its place, twisted in the bedcovers, Narcissa grasped at Draco’s calf.

“Please,” she begged him to allow her completion, before Lucius was stolen away again. No longer able to meet such familiar eyes, she buried her head in the crook of her arm. “Need…”

“Yes, have some pity on your mother, Draco,” Lucius panted, against her ear. “But you may decide. Do you allow her to come, rutting herself on my cock, or do you claim that pleasure only for yourself?” Hearing the guttural moan, from the head of the bed, Narcissa knew at once that she was doomed. Draco seemed to know, full well, the feeling of being penetrated by this cold, unfeeling man, and lusted after it just as heartily as she did.

“I’m sorry mother,” Draco sobbed, a single tear of need dripping down his cheek. “I can’t…”

Within seconds, she was tossed aside, her hip cracking painfully against the footboard. Lucius crawled atop their son, pinning him down, in a kiss that left Narcissa feeling empty, and yet full of seething rage. How like Lucius it was to choose his own son as his lover, a smaller version of himself to caress and claim as his own. She could see the echos of Lucius, in every movement Draco made. She had never seen her husband writhe as Draco did, or hear him beg in such a soft and needy voice, but the hunger that blazed in his eyes was the same.

“Father!” Draco keened, as Lucius breached him from behind, in a move that looked obscenely natural. As disgusted as Narcissa was, or told herself she was, she couldn’t take her eyes off of the pair. Though Draco had grown in the last year, he was still smaller than his father. He looked almost delicate, with Lucius’ thick arms wrapped around his waist, pulling Draco back onto his cock. Lucius’ hair spilled across the paleness of Draco’s back, but did nothing to muffle the sound of flesh on flesh that filled the room.

Narcissa could feel the blood throbbing between her legs, her own wetness glistening between her thighs. She wasn’t sure who she resented more, Lucius for pushing her away, or Draco for taking her place in her husband’s bed. At the moment, they were equal, she supposed, both just as guilty for depriving her of the release she needed so badly. 

“Get off of him!” she half yelled, half whimpered, pulling at Lucius’ shoulder. She could see where their bodies met and watched helplessly as Lucius thrust deeply. The feeling of her own two fingers over the roughness of her tongue, made Narcissa shiver and moan, the moan breaking as she dipped them into her wetness.

“You see?” Lucius panted roughly, at Draco’s ear. “Such a slut, even in front of her own son.” Narcissa’s high pitched moan spoke equally of lust and anger, and finally captured the phased attention of her only son.

“Mother…” Draco whispered, biting his lip as Lucius fisted his cock roughly, in retaliation for the words. “Sorry Mother, so sorry…”

Tears welling up in her own eyes, Narcissa finally saw just what it was that drove Lucius to claim his son in such a way. Such passion and need lived in those gray eyes; a feeling that she and Lucius had not shared for some years. She knew now the reason why, but it did nothing to cool her rage. Passion or not, she owned a part of both men, and would get her release one way or another. “Don’t make me do this,” she warned Lucius sternly. “You will regret it, I promise you.”

“Regret it?” Lucius laughed viciously, twisting his fingers through Draco’s silver blond hair, pulling his head back sharply. “And what are you going to do about it my dear? Speak to the papers whose editors are in my pocket; or go to the Ministry that I control?” His thrusts went shallow, making Draco mewl, and arch his back to a painful looking angle.

“You may own the Ministry,” the haughty blonde sneered, climbing closer to the couple rutting on the bed. “You may even own the papers, but you do not own me Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.” Before either of the pair could determine her intent, Narcissa slid beneath the bucking body of her son, legs spread in anticipation.

“Mother!” Draco cried as he slipped effortlessly into her prepared body, not realizing what was about to occur until he was buried to the hilt. “Gods Mother, nooo.” His small moans protested, yet his hips still thrust back and forth, savouring the sensation of fucking and being fucked.

“You bitch!” Lucius screamed, thrusting deeper into his son’s arse, claiming him. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You think that because you managed to hold a child in your womb for nine months that he is yours?” His eyes narrowed, staring into those of the determined woman below him. “He will never be yours.”

Facing the oh-so-similar visages of her husband and son, Narcissa tuned out the threats, letting her body relax. Lucius found himself unable to force her to stop, and never one to back down from a challenge, thrust harder, pounding into his son’s body, forcing Draco to impale his mother again and again. He sneered down at the blonde haired witch, writhing like a bitch in heat under their off-spring. Nipping at the skin of Draco’s neck, he whispered roughly. “Fuck her then Draco. Fuck your little whore mother.” All three of them made vocal their response, Draco and Cissa whimpering, as Lucius growled. They were not far off. “Fuck her, my precious, and then you can come for me.”

Disgusting… disgusting… Narcissa repeated in her mind, but her body was listening to something far different. She could feel the heat coiling in her belly, threatening to snap with each roll of Draco’s hips, each brush of Lucius’ hair against her shoulder. “Yes, oh Merlin please…” she moaned grasping the narrow, milky white hips that pounded into her.

Lucius watched closely as his wife’s face contorted with pleasure, teetering on the brink of orgasm. He growled roughly now, driving into Draco’s very core. “That’s it; you see how close she is? She will do anything you ask. This is power Draco. This is your power.” Narcissa’s laughter rang out, twisting as the dam within her finally broke, her body arching off the bed. 

“Fuck yes, yes, Draco… God…” Spasm after spasm wracked through her, seeming to never end, as Lucius kept up his own assault on Draco. As unrelenting as the sensations became, Lucius’ name never neared her lips. “Please Draco…” Oh Merlin, that she would live to see the day that she would beg for her own son to spend himself inside her. No matter how she pleaded with Draco, he only uttered one name.

“Father, please, so good… need to come,” her son cried, tears dripping onto his mother’s chest.

“Yesss, my love,” Lucius crooned. “Who do you belong to?”

“Yours,” Draco babbled, still thrusting into his mother’s willing body. “Only yours, forever.”

“Then come for me, Draco. Come for your Daddy.”

“Yesssss,” Draco screamed, flooding her body with searing hot come. Sweet Merlin, her son’s come, Both men seemed to reach their peak together, as Lucius stilled, shuddering and groaning his own release. No, it wasn’t supposed to end this way. Draco was supposed to cry her name, to want her, to love her. She was his mother. Lucius wrapped an arm around his son, drawing him off of Narcissa’s wasted body and onto the bed beside him. Within seconds, she no longer existed to them, left to the coldness of the room.

“Do you see, my love,” she heard Lucius whisper. “You can make anyone love you. You can make anyone do anything.”

Narcissa slipped off of the bed, unclothed and unnoticed. Though she tried to avert her gaze, she couldn’t help but see the glimmer of satisfaction in Lucius’ eyes, as she ran out the door. She remembered a time that her mother had said the same thing to her. “You can make anyone love you, Narcissa. Anyone.” That had been a time of new dresses, parties, and pearls. A time where anything was possible, and her mother’s words were true. Only, in the end, her mother had been wrong. There was love in Malfoy Manor, but it would never touch her. Never again.


End file.
